


i'm an angel (tell me what you mean by that)

by angeryshrimps



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Alternate Universe - Demons, Angels, Angst, Angst and Feels, Bittersweet Ending, Character Study, Crushes, Demons, Fallen Angels, Friends to Enemies, M/M, Pining, Sad Ending, Sad Oikawa Tooru, Sort Of, all the pining, it's more like a
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:14:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26034757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angeryshrimps/pseuds/angeryshrimps
Summary: "Do you think," Oikawa asks, "that some of us were made to fall?"orOikawa's a fallen angel. He doesn't miss the Celestial Realm, only the way Iwaizumi used to look at him.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 6
Kudos: 45





	i'm an angel (tell me what you mean by that)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JiMINSUGA](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JiMINSUGA/gifts).



> Happy birthday emu <3
> 
> (title taken from Born Without a Heart by Faouzia)

Oikawa can understand why humans are always in awe upon entering the Celestial Realm. From his perch atop a mountain, he can see everything from the rosy cherry blossom trees that are always in bloom to the sparkling azure water running over terraces to join the river that doesn’t cut through any land (because there’s no earth underneath for it to cut through when there are only floating islands, disjointed, disconnected, and incoherent). Mist rises up from the river and a rainbow curves above his head, and if he looks up at it, he will see the sun shining at the rainbow’s peak. After six hundred years of living there, it still manages to take his breath away.

So, yeah, Oikawa’s an angel, which, of course, means he’s pure and holy, and flawless. His life is just as perfect. On a normal day, he flies around, saves a few lives, punishes some sinners, and teases Iwaizumi. Who wouldn’t want that?

But, as usual, Oikawa has to ruin everything.

* * *

Humans are strange. They kill their friends and aid their enemies. They hold meaningless grudges and forget important details. They change their minds at the drop of a hat. Their opinions, like their lives, are so trifling and fleeting. That’s why they’re better understood by blithering idiots such as Kageyama and Ushijima.

Oikawa hates humans. At the very least, he looks down on them. That’s why assignments in the human world are always his least favourite.

Humans are somehow bizarre yet boring.

They waste their youth chasing frivolous pleasures, only to die unsatisfied and regretful. They let their emotions run amok and drive them wild. They’re selfish, prejudiced, and above all, stupid.

But the thing about being an angel is that he doesn’t need to understand or empathize with humans, all he has to do is follow God’s orders.

Oikawa discovers this one day while chatting with Iwaizumi about death.

He flips through the lists of humans dying of the plague, some sinners, some holy—well, as holy as humans can be. There is no pattern, the deaths are randomized as though it was decided by a blind man playing darts. Oikawa, ever curious, asks Iwaizumi for the reason behind this nonsense.

“Some people have to die for the greater good,” Iwaizumi says, the same way one would say the sky is blue or seawater is salty. Like it is the most simple of truths.

“An innocent person died. How can that be good?”

Iwaizumi shrugs, unaffected by the indiscriminate deaths. “When there are so many people, it’s impossible for everyone to get what they want. Some people have to suffer so many others can be happy.”

It’s not that he cares about humans themselves, but he can’t understand why perfectly innocent people would be punished without reason. “They were good people. They were devoted followers of God and yet He betrayed them.”

“You’re being too shortsighted. It’s not about the individual person. It’s about humanity as a whole. Sometimes innocent people die for the greater good of humanity.”

Oikawa flaps his wings, sending a cold gust of wind Iwaizumi’s way. The other merely covers his face and scowls. “So I don’t need to exercise fair judgement when dealing with humans?”

Iwaizumi wrinkles his nose, eyebrows drawing together to convey his frustration. Oikawa knows Iwaizumi’s about to hit him and sure enough, he smacks Oikawa’s wing lightly. “It’s not that you don’t need to be fair, Shittykawa. You still do, but sometimes, you have to defer to His judgement, if it clashes with yours. Trust in God and simply do as He commands.”

Oikawa peers over the clouds underneath them, at the dots that are humans on the dirt. They’re small like ants and just as numerous. He could crush them underfoot easily. There wouldn’t even be any guilt, their lives are forfeit, their very existence meaningless. And there’s simply so many of them. What’s the difference between one human and another to a divine being like him? Kill one and there are a million more to take its place.

He wonders how many angels there are.

From beside him, Iwaizumi says, “Honestly, some days I don’t know how you’re an angel.”

Oikawa doesn’t either. Not today, not ever.

He wonders if angels are disposable too.

* * *

Contrary to popular belief, Oikawa doesn’t spend all his time thinking about himself. He’s not that vain. He only spends half his time thinking about himself. The other half is spent thinking about others and comparing himself to them.

He doesn’t know how the comparisons started. Really, he doesn’t. All he knows is that once he starts, he can’t stop.

Most of the time, though, he brushes his worries aside. Oikawa doesn’t care. Or, at least, that’s what he tells himself.

The lie works. 

For a while.

* * *

And then, somehow, Oikawa finds himself standing alone with only his toxic thoughts to keep him company. His mind runs in circles until it drives him insane. Seriously, Oikawa can’t figure it out. What’s the big deal with Ushijima and Kageyama? Isn’t he better? 

Oikawa looks at himself in a mirror, rubbing his cheek, smoothing his hair. He’s prettier, isn’t he? He’s more charming too since those two have the social skills of a carrot. And, since he doesn’t have natural talent as _they_ do, Oikawa actually tries. Isn’t that more commendable? Isn’t he more deserving? So, why then, do Kageyama and Ushijima reap more praise?

It isn’t fair.

Bitterly, Oikawa considers Kageyama’s—or Ushijima’s—innate talent. He’s always believed that talent isn’t everything, that hard work is more important. Now, Oikawa isn’t so sure. What if people’s capabilities are predetermined? His own effort may bring out the best in him, but even that cannot go against fate. And what if his fate is to be lacking, one step short of perfection? Oikawa doesn’t want to think about that.

He mocks Kageyama and Ushijima because it’s so much easier to tear others down than it is to take an honest look at oneself and build one’s self up. So Oikawa pulls down his bottom eyelid, sticks out his tongue and fires a couple of insults at those two to deal with his own insecurity.

Whenever Iwaizumi asks him about it though, Oikawa smiles and claims he’s fine. 

“Stop lying to yourself, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi growls. “Or are you really that delusional?” 

And Oikawa laughs. He chortles and slaps Iwaizumi’s wing because how can he believe that Oikawa believes himself? All those things he says, every proud, conceited comment is a front. It’s a defence. It’s so obviously a defence because the only alternative is to let the sad, depressed voices in his head take over. And, oh, Oikawa has them in spades despite the arrogant appearance he displays. They swarm him, whispering in his ear, reminding Oikawa of every shortcoming and flaw he possesses. He ignores them. Problems are only as real as one acknowledges them to be. And if he suppresses them, shoves them away in the corner of his mind he never shows anyone? Then, Oikawa can put on his happy mask and pretend to himself, the beings around him, the whole world, that he’s fine.

Oikawa’s lied to himself for so long, he himself doesn’t even know what he believes. He thinks that he believes the words that sprout from his mouth. And that’s all that matters, right? Because there is no difference between a trusted lie and a truth. To devoted believers, delusions are every bit as real as objective reality.

He might go one step further and say that truth and belief are two different things. Objectively, Oikawa knows he is a good angel, that as a result of his hard work, he is competent and skilled. The truth is, he is just as valued as Kageyama or Ushijima. Logically, it’s a fact that he is as deserving of love and care as they are, but emotionally? He doesn’t feel that way. Oikawa knows he has worth, but never once has he believed it.

He’s so lost in his train of thought that he doesn’t hear Iwaizumi calling his name. 

“What are you thinking about?” Iwaizumi grumbles and immediately, Oikawa smiles, so as not to inconvenience him.

“Nothing much.” Oikawa shrugs and beams, squeezing his eyes tight. He shouldn’t have let his mind stray. The thoughts stir some foreign feeling within him and his eyes sting. 

“It’s not nothing, Shittykawa. You spaced out and now you look like you’re about to cry,” Iwaizumi accuses. The remark bothers Oikawa a lot more than it should. Iwaizumi is only making an observation, so why does the idea of Iwaizumi seeing Oikawa’s fears scare him so much?

“What’s the problem?” Iwaizumi demands. “Come on, you can tell me. I’m your friend, you know? I care about you.”

Oikawa shakes his head lightly. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing you need to know.”

“I want to know, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi says. He bites his lip, then continues, “Look, I’m not going to force it out of you if it really bothers you that much. But if you’re not telling me because of some ridiculous reason, like thinking you’re a burden, then I want you to know you’re not.” Iwaizumi glares at him. “So tell me.”

Oikawa laughs, but it comes out a lot higher and shakier than he intended. “Okay, fine. I’ll tell you since you want to know so badly.” He scratches his head. “Please don’t hit me, Iwa-chan, but I was just thinking …” Oikawa lowers his voice and mumbles, “That I might be a bad angel or something. If it’s even possible for angels to be bad. I told you it was dumb.”

“Yeah, you are. You suck.”

Oikawa knows he’s joking. He tells himself to smile or give an equally teasing reply. But the smile he flashes is halfhearted at best and the only response he can give is, “Haha. Yeah.”

Iwaizumi stares at him silently, his eyes trained on Oikawa’s face. It makes Oikawa feel like a bug under a display case, so he looks away, pretending to spot a peculiar cloud. He swallows the lump in his throat and forces a strand of meaningless, chipper words out. His voice is a bit too high.

“I didn’t mean that,” Iwaizumi says quietly. “It was a joke because you’re obviously really great. You're a hard worker. You’re funny and you always encourage others. You’re … nice.”

Something in his chest swells and Oikawa spins around to say, “Aw! I knew you loved me, Iwa-chan!”

“Yeah.”

Oikawa blinks rapidly. He expected Iwaizumi to tease him or deny it or something. He certainly wasn’t expecting this. Oikawa wants to say something but he doesn’t trust himself to not promptly burst into tears or do something equally embarrassing, so he settles for running into Iwaizumi and hugging him tightly.

Iwaizumi pulls back to glare at him. “I care about you, so next time something bothers you, you tell me, you idiot.”

“Mmm, I’ll do that,” Oikawa hums. He pats the top of Iwaizumi’s heart and lets the fluttery feeling in his chest blossom. He’s positively giddy. It’s one of those rare happy moments and Oikawa’s going to make the most of it before his toxic thoughts take over again.

* * *

Oikawa really likes Takeru. He’s probably Oikawa’s second favourite being after Iwaizumi.

The boy doesn’t immediately freak out when he shows him his true form and he actually believes Oikawa when he says he’s an angel. That makes him a top tier human in Oikawa’s book.

Then they start talking and belatedly, Oikawa realizes that children are stupid and silly and extremely funny. He lets his walls come down and befriends the child.

“My name is Oikawa Tooru.”

Takeru’s eyes light up. “We have the same last name! That’s so cool. Am I an angel too?”

“You’d make a great angel,” Oikawa says sincerely.

“So, will I become an angel when I die?”

Oikawa freezes. He coughs as his mind raced for a child-appropriate answer. “Well, you’re going to live for a very long time, Takeru.”

“Really?” Takeru asks eagerly. “Even though the doctor says I’m very sick?”

Oikawa considers slapping himself. Or teleporting away. Instead, he smiles nervously and says, “Of course! So, um, would you like to hear about the Celestial Realm?”

Takeru nods his approval and Oikawa spends the rest of his visit divulging trivial details about his home.

He visits Takeru several more times over the year. Half the time Oikawa just tells him funny stories of Iwaizumi because he’s the highlight of Oikawa’s day.

It’s not until his fourth visit that it occurs to him to ask about Takeru’s condition. The little boy shrugs and offhandedly mentions that he’s pretty much been in a hospital since he was born. So, clearly, the next logical step for Oikawa is to steal Takeru’s file. He finds out that Takeru has a terminal illness, but it’s slow-acting, so Takeru probably won’t die soon. Probably.

Oikawa glances at the boy. Takeru is lying down on the cot while a doctor administers medicine, his face scrunching up in pain as the needle pierces his skin. 

Oikawa closes the file and shelves it. He returns to Takeru’s room, hovering over his sleeping figure and taking in the pained expressions Takeru wears even in his sleep.

The illness probably causes Takeru constant pain and the thought hurts Oikawa too. He wants to help Takeru somehow, but Oikawa isn’t allowed to heal whoever he wishes. If Takeru is sick then it must be because God or fate decreed it so, and the same applies if Takeru dies an untimely death. And Oikawa knows he has to accept that. 

It bothers him. It hurts Oikawa to see Takeru suffering, but more than that, it bothers Oikawa that he even cares about a human in the first place. And then, later, when he’s in the Celestial Realm, he realizes how scary it is to be attached to something as fragile and short-lived as a human.

So, for the time being, Oikawa pushes all thoughts of Takeru’s death aside and focuses on enjoying what time he has with him.

Then one day, after Oikawa finishes retelling another one of Iwaizumi’s dumb jokes, Takeru asks, “Tooru, are you happy?”

The question catches him off guard, sweeps him off his feet and it takes a minute for Oikawa to recover. “Uh, yeah? I’m an angel. My life is perfect.”

Takeru just giggles and says, “Okay, if you say so.”

But it’s too late, the seeds of doubt have been planted.

* * *

The question is asked on a bright summer afternoon like all damning questions are. 

They’re sitting under an apple tree that’s situated on a small floating island hovering high above the rest of the islands, so when Oikawa looks straight ahead he can see the sun setting on the horizon. He brought a blanket (intended to be a picnic blanket, but it’s currently wrapped around Iwaizumi’s shoulders) and Iwaizumi brought a basket laden with food—milk, bread made with a holy ingredient Oikawa doesn’t know but loves for the way it makes the bread so soft it practically melts in his mouth, sparkling water from the floating rivers that they’ve poured in glass goblets, and a box of sweet, juicy cherries.

Iwaizumi pops a cherry into his mouth and twists the stem to break it off. The cherry slips out a little and he sucks it back in, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

Oikawa stares at him and wonders what it would be like to run his fingers over those lips, press his mouth to Iwaizumi’s and lick the inside of his mouth, taste the flavour of cherries on his tongue.

He knows he can find out. Because, underneath all the violence and insults, Iwaizumi is kind to a fault, the type who would do anything if he thinks it would help Oikawa. All he has to do is cry and beg, and Iwaizumi would swoop in to save him. 

There are other ways too. Iwaizumi is too trusting. Oikawa can offer him a drink, make him fall asleep or drug him into senseless lust. But then they’d be ruined. They’re angels and angels don’t sin. Oikawa doesn’t care about himself, but Iwaizumi? He could never drag the other down with him.

Oikawa could have Iwaizumi if only they weren’t angels and didn’t live in heaven. Suddenly, the human world or even hell, in spite of all their sins, seems appealing.

And then he wonders if God created him, who planted these thoughts in his head?

“Do you think,” Oikawa asks, “that some of us were made to fall?”

Iwaizumi’s response comes immediately like he didn’t even have to think about it and Oikawa wishes he could have that sort of faith in God or anything really. “No, of course not. Why would He make us, only to cast us aside?”

“Right, it just doesn’t make sense.” And yet, he can’t help feeling that his suspicions are true. Oikawa shivers and automatically tugs at Iwaizumi’s blanket.

Iwaizumi loosens his hold on it. He glances at Oikawa and asks, “Are you cold?”

“A bit,” he admits. It’s always either spring or summer in the Celestial Realm, but Oikawa’s garments are paper-thin and he shudders every time a breeze blows past.

Iwaizumi wraps his arms around him, pulls Oikawa into his lap, and rests his chin on Oikawa's head.

Oikawa tucks his head into his chest, cocooned by Iwaizumi’s warm body where he feels most secure. “Thank you, Iwa-chan.”

“You’re welcome, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi murmurs, flicking his forehead. 

Oikawa sticks his tongue out at him and snuggles further into Iwaizumi’s embrace. He doesn’t know if he belongs in heaven, but he does with Iwaizumi.

* * *

Angels are horrible gossips and one of their favourite topics is fallen angels. The Celestial Realm has no shortage of dramatic tales about angels being cast from heaven, most of which Oikawa doubts are true. They spin stories of sexual depravity, unabashed thievery, despicable murders, and all manner of heinous crimes, but the common denominator among them is that they’re all highly dramatized. They’re highly sensationalized, exciting tales, designed to lure their audience in and trap them with outrageous narratives.

They’re all lies.

The way Oikawa falls isn’t fast and sudden, a tsunami crashing over him, rendering him powerless against the temptation. No, it’s slow, like a rising sealine, growing centimetre by centimetre each year. It creeps up on him until one day, Oikawa looks down and realizes he’s been standing in water all this time. And then, though he could leave, he chooses to swim into the ocean, whose water he’s come to love.

For Oikawa, he realizes he’s drowning when he sees Takeru’s name on a list of those destined to die soon. And, sure, he’s witnessed millions of people die without so much as batting an eye, but Takeru isn’t any normal person. He’s a friend, a confidant, a little brother Oikawa never had and suddenly, his stomach lurches with horrible pain. It spreads through his veins, spears through his heart, and sears a burning hole through his very being, consuming him entirely.

He can’t let Takeru die.

Oikawa focuses on that one train of thought and finds himself in front of the Garden of Eden. He’s breathing heavily and his feet hover over the ground momentarily before he lands. Oikawa realizes he must have flown here.

The gates open after a while and, distantly, Oikawa wonders if God can see the treasonous thoughts in his mind. He dashes through the garden, intent on finding the Tree of Knowledge, and collides with someone. Oikawa looks up, recognizing Tsukishima’s scathing glare.

“What are you doing here?” Tsukishima demands.

“I have some letters to deliver,” Oikawa says, aware that his lie isn’t convincing at all. “It’s, uh, very important.”

“Sure, it is,” Tsukishima mutters, rolling his eyes. “Well, what are you waiting for? Nothing I say will change your mind, so you might as well get on with it and deliver those ‘letters’ of yours.”

Oikawa jumps up into the air, flying above Tsukishima. “Thanks! I’m off then.”

“Yes, please fly off, you giant mosquito.”

“If I’m a mosquito, you’re a gnat,” Oikawa retorts.

Tsukishima glares at him and simply walks away from the garden, leaving Oikawa thoroughly confused. Until his eyes land on the twin stumps on Tsukishima’s back and Oikawa remembers that the other angel doesn’t have wings.

Not anymore.

As Oikawa flies towards the Tree of Knowledge, he makes a mental note to apologize to Tsukishima later. He lands in front of the tall tree and gazes at its intimidating stature. It rises high above him, its trunk appearing to pierce the floating clouds above. Oikawa studies the intricate labyrinth of branches weaving in and out, forming a half-sphere over his head. The tree’s leaves are a bright emerald green thanks to the only seasons in the Celestial Realm being spring and summer. A particularly hard gust of wind shakes the tree’s branches and as they sway, the whole world around him turns. A sea of green surrounds him as waves of leaves flutter in the wind. A few are pried off the branches by the wind and a stray leaf lands on his head. 

Oikawa combs through his hair. He holds the leaf by its petiole gingerly. The wind continues to blow, tousling his hair and making the leaf in his hand shake. Its veins give it the appearance of a rippling surface. Oikawa loosens his grip and the leaf is blown out of his hand. Amazingly, it spirals up, carried by a swirling current of air.

His eyes follow its movement to the upper branches of the tree where it bears fruit.

Oikawa stares at the apple before taking it. There is still time, he knows—to turn back, to run away, to pretend it was a mistake. But then he remembers Takeru’s pained face and he grabs the apple from its branch.

And so, he falls.

* * *

Exactly six days after Oikawa falls, he meets a demon. He is almost certain the demon planned it this way.

He’s wandering the barren earth, a soft blanket laid over the stumps that were his wings to protect the sensitive skin. Oikawa is lost, delirious from hunger and thirst when he sees the demon.

The demon has the worst case of bed head Oikawa has ever seen and narrowed eyes that dart around, looking at everything in the nearby vicinity. He introduces himself as Kuroo, prompting Oikawa to offer his name in return.

Kuroo offers him a cup of water and a piece of human food called a hamburger. It tastes salty and strange, but Oikawa devours it all anyway.

“I came to give you some important information,” Kuroo says, smirking in a way that lets Oikawa know he isn’t going to like whatever comes next. “It’s about your fall.”

“You mean it hasn’t ended?”

“Well, it has, but there are worse things coming after.”

Oikawa folds his arms and glares at the demon, wondering if he can be trusted. “What could possibly be worse than this?” He spreads his arms, gesturing to the absolute mundanity that is the human world.

Kuroo shrugs. “Not existing at all, maybe?”

Despite his best efforts, Oikawa’s jaw drops. “What do you mean?”

“You’ll disintegrate after a year. Didn’t anyone tell you this?”

“No!”

“Oh, wow,” Kuroo says, voice dripping with fake surprise. “What nice friends you have. They were just going to let you live in ignorance, huh?”

Oikawa doesn’t fully trust Kuroo’s words, but he supposes it’s better to be safe than sorry, so he asks, “Is there anything I can do? To prevent myself from being wiped out of existence?”

“Hypothetically, you’d avoid that if you returned to heaven. Although, that’s extremely rare. The other option … well, the other option is why I came to you,” Kuroo extends a hand, “I want you to make a pact with me.”

Oikawa refuses immediately.

“Think about it, angel,” Kuroo quips. “You don’t have much time and in the seven thousand years I’ve been alive, I’ve never once seen a fallen angel go back to heaven.”

“I’ll be different,” Oikawa says hoarsely. That’s what everyone thinks, isn’t it? That they are special, that they are as gods, that they will be the ones to defy fate.

“Maybe,” Kuroo admits. “Or maybe you'll be just like everyone else.” He winks at him and walks away, waving a hand over his head. “But if you ever want a safety net, just know that I’ll be in hell, waiting for you to accept my offer. It doesn’t take much, you only have to get a tattoo and break your halo. It's a great deal, really.” Then he disappears.

Oikawa sits down on the yellowing grass, hugs his knees tight and cries.

He doesn’t want to die. There’s so much he hasn’t seen, hasn’t done. He hasn’t told Iwaizumi about his feelings, hasn’t felt the other’s lips on his, hasn’t whispered sweet words to him under a starry sky.

He doesn’t want to die, all alone and abandoned, worthless as the dirt underfoot. He wants to survive, to be truly alive.

* * *

Kuroo visits him again. And again. And again.

Every time, he asks the same question and every time Oikawa gives him the same answer.

“I’ll think about it.”

Oikawa never made any major decisions in the Celestial Realm. All he had to do was follow His orders.

Now, he’s lost, a traveller without a map and he wonders how long it will take him to wander to his destination. If he knows where he’s going, that is.

* * *

Iwaizumi visits him in the human world once. Oikawa remembers every second of it.

And if he knew how to write, if he had one of those papers humans are always scribbling on, Oikawa would record every last detail, down to the way the sunset is reflected in his eyes or the way his nose crinkles ever so slightly when he glares at Oikawa before hitting him.

Iwaizumi shows up with his hair still messy from sleep, his wings concealed under a baggy jacket and it simply isn’t fair how beautiful he looks. 

“Hey,” Oikawa says softly. He wants to run up to Iwaizumi and hug him, ask him how he’s been, but he settles for standing beside Iwaizumi instead.

Iwaizumi nods in acknowledgement. He has a basket with him and Iwaizumi retrieves a blanket from it, spreads it out on the grass and lays out a variety of dishes. He does so silently, but every so often he glances at Oikawa and Oikawa, who’s been staring at Iwaizumi this whole time, flushes and they both look away only to repeat this moments later. Iwaizumi finishes setting up their picnic and beckons Oikawa to sit down with him.

“This looks really good,” Oikawa says in an effort to make conversation.

Iwaizumi thanks him, but his gaze is unfocused, his attention on something else. He hands Oikawa a bowl and they begin eating.

“How are you?” Iwaizumi asks between bites of food.

“Good,” Oikawa says hesitantly. “It’s not that bad … down here. It can be nice sometimes, in its own way.”

“Is that so? Well, that’s good.” Iwaizumi coughs and says awkwardly, “As long as you’re happy.” He takes another bite of his food and stares at Oikawa, contemplative. “Listen, Shittykawa, I don’t know what you did, but …”

Oikawa flinches at the use of the nickname. It’s been months since he’s heard it. And, strangely, he misses it. A lot.

“You have to fix it somehow,” Iwaizumi says sternly. “You can’t just give up. You should repent and make reparations for your wrongdoing. He will understand and forgive you.”

Oikawa shakes his head causing his hair to fall lightly in front of his eyes. He doesn’t know what garbled stories Iwaizumi has heard, but they’re certainly not the truth. He can’t make amends for what he’s done, he can’t.

“I don’t know how it is for you down here, but you should come back home. It’s not the same without you.”

And he cannot return to the Celestial Realm.

So, Oikawa picks up his chopsticks, shoves some rice into his mouth and says cheerfully, “You worry too much, Iwa-chan. I’ll find a way. I’ll be fine.”

Iwaizumi regards him uneasily, but if he knows Oikawa’s lying, he doesn’t call him out on it. “I don’t worry too much, you just worry too little.”

“Aw, were you _so_ worried for me?”

Iwaizumi swats him. “Shut up.” Then, quietly, he asks, “Do you miss it?”

“Of course, I miss you, Iwa-chan.”

“Not me, the Celestial Realm, dumbass.”

“Oh. My bad. I guess I just miss you too much.” Oikawa laughs weakly, but Iwaizumi doesn’t join in. Oikawa blows a lock of hair out of his face. “Yeah, I do miss the Celestial Realm. I miss being with you.”

“What do you miss the most?” Iwaizumi murmurs. “About being an angel?”

“I—” The words catch in his throat and Oikawa doesn’t know what to say. Oikawa sets his bowl down and looks at his hands. It takes him a long time to think of an answer. “My wings … I guess.”

“You guess?” Iwaizumi repeats skeptically. 

“Not the wings themselves. I miss flying,” Oikawa says wistfully, thinking of all the times he looped through clouds or soared over the sunset.

“Well,” Iwaizumi says, standing up. “If it’s flying you miss, I think I can help you.” He dusts his shoulders and spreads his arms. 

Oikawa runs at him and nearly collides into him. He hugs Iwaizumi tightly, who falters slightly before hugging him back. Oikawa rests his chin on Iwaizumi’s shoulder and stays there for a while, so Iwaizumi won’t see how red his eyes are.

Then, when he’s sure his eyes are dry, Oikawa pulls back and asks, “So, how is this going to work?”

Iwaizumi shrugs off the jacket he’s wearing, throwing it on top of the picnic basket. His wings emerge and unfurl from behind him. “I can carry you. If that’s okay.”

“Sure,” Oikawa says, expecting Iwaizumi to lift him by his arms. Instead, Iwaizumi places one hand on Oikawa’s back and uses his other to lift his legs. Instinctively, Oikawa wraps his arms around Iwaizumi’s neck. “What are you doing?” Oikawa demands.

Iwaizumi doesn’t respond. He jumps and they both launch into the sky.

It’s winter, a season Oikawa has never experienced in the Celestial Realm. The clouds in the sky are as white as the snow on the ground. The horizon seems to be a mirror.

The sun is setting in the distance, blocked by puffs of white. Iwaizumi takes them both higher until they’re floating through a mass of clouds.

Oikawa tightens his grip on Iwaizumi’s shoulders. He doesn’t want to risk a fall from this height. 

“Is this what you meant?” Iwaizumi asks hesitantly. “Flying through clouds and stuff?”

“Yeah. Just flying around in general.”

They breeze through a soft cloud and Oikawa reaches out to grab a handful of condensation. He unfolds his fingers one by one and watches the wisps of white drift out from his hand.

Iwaizumi bites his lip. His face scrunches up in concentration and Oikawa knows he’s thinking of something to say. Finally, he settles on, “Is there anything else you want?”

“No, not really,” Oikawa says, nonchalant. “It’s nice just being here with you.”

 _You_ , his traitorous brain supplies, _I want you. I want you to want me._

Try as he may, Oikawa can’t stop his mind from wandering to the possibilities between him and Iwaizumi. If he were in the Celestial Realm, he would’ve suppressed these thoughts, but as it happens, he’s no longer an angel and there’s no need for him to remain holy.

So, Oikawa lets his mind drift because, hey, if he’s going to fall, he might as well get something good out of it, right?

If they ever have a romantic relationship, Oikawa thinks he would be the one to confess first because Iwaizumi is horrible at recognizing his own feelings. He wonders where they’d go for their first date. He’d like to go to an arcade and beat Iwaizumi in every game and win lots of plushies so they can throw them at each other after. Then, they can walk home and spend the night together, tucked in each other’s arms. They’ll chat about whatever strikes their fancy until they tire and fall asleep wrapped up together. Then, somehow, in the middle of the night, Oikawa wants to wake up and drag Iwaizumi out to the grassy fields. They’ll sit down, side by side, and look up at the night sky. He imagines the trees on the edges of their vision, the colour of the night sky dark as spilled oil, and the brilliant nexus of stars that paint pictures across the sky.

He just wants to be with Iwaizumi.

Oikawa can’t have that, in the Celestial Realm or the human world, but here, he can imagine. He can dream.

He looks at Iwaizumi, watching the wind blow through his hair and mess it up even more. Oikawa takes a deep breath and picks up on the faint scent of citrus. He wonders when Iwaizumi switched his shampoo, then remembers the only reason he smelled like roses was because Iwaizumi used to borrow Oikawa's rose-scented products.

Iwaizumi’s eyes land on him and he smiles, and Oikawa’s drowning in that smile. He has Iwaizumi’s undivided attention and wants to keep it all to himself. A possessive part of Oikawa wants Iwaizumi to only look at him, to be his.

They fly higher. At this height, the lack of oxygen is making Oikawa dizzy. Distantly, he realizes that he _could_ have Iwaizumi.

If he falls.

Iwaizumi has been nothing but kind to him and here he is, repaying said kindness by brainstorming ways to make Iwaizumi fall. Oikawa wants to slap himself for even contemplating the idea. But the thoughts linger, whispering in the back of his head. 

He could. And then all those daydreams he had earlier would be real. The thought is more tempting than any test God has posed.

He could. He should. But he won’t. 

Because Iwaizumi means too much to him.

Iwaizumi makes one last loop around the clouds before returning to the ground. “I’m going to find a way for you to return to the Celestial Realm,” he says resolutely. “So don’t worry. I’m not giving up on you. I’ll find a way to help you.”

They land and Oikawa lets go of Iwaizumi, as much as he doesn’t want to. He’s not reassured by Iwaizumi’s words, not in the slightest. He’s young for an angel, but in all his years, Oikawa’s never heard of a fallen angel returning. There’s no redemption for him.

But he’s not going to bother Iwaizumi with that; kind, sweet, loyal Iwaizumi, who has better things to do than worry about him. 

Oikawa flashes a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”

“In the meantime, take care of yourself. I brought you some food, but you should find a job and provide for yourself.”

Oikawa knows Iwaizumi will leave at some point, but it almost sounds like he’s not coming back. He grabs Iwaizumi’s wrist. “Will you visit me again?”

Iwaizumi avoids his questioning gaze. He tugs his arm back sharply. “I … I have to go.”

“Wait!” It pains him to be so desperate, but Oikawa lunges for Iwaizumi. “Aren’t you coming back? Don’t leave me.”

“Don’t do this to me,” Iwaizumi snaps. He backs away, a frown etched on his face. “It’s not my choice. I have to go.”

Iwaizumi lifts his wings and with a few movements, he’s flying up in the sky, higher than Oikawa could ever hope to reach. He returns to the Celestial Realm and as Oikawa watches him fly away, he squints, holds a hand over his face, looks up at the sky, and says, “Goodbye, Hajime.”

* * *

Surprisingly, the thing Oikawa hates the most about the human world isn’t the lack of magic. Rather, it’s the climate. No matter how hot it gets, it’s still far too cold to him.

He curls up into a ball to conserve warmth and whimpers as his body temperature plummets.

Oikawa’s never felt so cold before.

* * *

Kuroo is surprisingly easy to talk to. Even easier to get drunk with.

Oikawa, being a fallen angel and all, has never had the chance to taste alcohol before. So after a few sips, he’s down, fully and completely drunk.

So he does what he does best: complain. More specifically, Oikawa complains about his fall.

“I saved a life,” he slurs. “Why did I get banned for saving someone?”

“Because,” Kuroo says matter of factly, “you _only_ saved Takeru.”

“So? He needed it.”

“By feeding Takeru the forbidden fruit, you altered his lifespan and changed the fates of dozens around him, potentially killing hundreds.”

“It’s not like I was trying to kill people,” Oikawa whines. “I just wanted to save him.” He chugs more alcohol.

They sit in silence at the bar for a while, side by side under the flickering lights. Then, Kuroo spins to stare at him with dark, narrowed eyes, and asks, “Do you have any idea how many people die every day?”

“I don’t know. Thousands?”

Oikawa tries to take another swig of his drink, only to be stopped by Kuroo. “So why him? Why Takeru and why not the thousands of other dying humans?”

“Because I know him,” Oikawa snaps. “He’s special to me. He’s the only human I care about. I wouldn’t care if a billion humans died, so long as Takeru lived. Isn’t that normal? No one cares about random strangers, they only care about those around them.”

“Yes, that’s right.” Kuroo smiles. “If you’re a selfish human.”

He laughs, mostly at him for realizing it so late, but partly at the irony of it all. To think that, after all these years of disdaining humans, he falls for being just like them. “So that’s why. How stupid of me.” Oikawa leans on his arm and thinks about how fragile humans are. How insignificant, short-lived, and utterly degenerative they are. Is he like that too, now that he’s lost his wings?

* * *

Oikawa waits for Iwaizumi for the whole year.

He never comes.

Oikawa’s not mad, just scared.

He doesn’t know why Iwaizumi didn’t visit him again. Perhaps he’s forbidden from doing so, perhaps he’s busy with his duties, perhaps he hates him now. The reason doesn’t matter because whatever it is, Oikawa can’t hold it against him anyway.

He just wants to see Iwaizumi.

And that’s how he knows.

* * *

Three hundred and sixty-five days after his fall, Oikawa finds Kuroo and agrees to a pact with him.

He only has one question. “Can I see him again?”

“You can,” Kuroo says carefully, “but never as friends, or even allies. You will be rivals, enemies, forever locked in battle against each other. The next time you see him, you may have to kill him.” Kuroo fixes him with his strange stare. “Do you think you can do that? Hold his neck down and pry apart his halo? Tear off his wings? Plunge your hand into his chest and rip out his heart?”

Oikawa swallows. Of course, he can’t, but he’s been lying to himself and everyone around him this whole time, so that’s one more lie? “We’ll see.”

“A fair warning. Though you may see him, he will never look at you the same way. You will be fundamental opposites, the holy and the sinner.” Kuroo stares off into the distance. “He will hate you with every fibre of his being. Can you accept that?”

“As long as I can see him again,” Oikawa says hoarsely. His right hand hovers over the pact seal hesitantly, fluttering as the magic seizes him. The other grabs the circle above his head.

 _Forgive me, Iwa-chan,_ Oikawa thinks desperately as he breaks his halo, the last holy piece of him. _You can hate me, despise me, loathe me all you want, but I can never let you forget me._

* * *

Years later, they meet again.

Iwaizumi hovers in front of Oikawa, covering the sun. The bright light streams out from behind his large wings. Oikawa stares up at him, watches as white feathers float down. He catches one in his hand, remembering when he used to have wings equally as soft instead of the black, leathery ones that protrude from his back now. They feel strange. It took him months to fly again and he still can’t get used to it.

That’s far from the only difference between them. In the time that Oikawa’s spent underground, his skin has noticeably paled, especially in comparison to the healthy glow that Iwaizumi has. Oikawa’s eyes rake over Iwaizumi’s figure like he’s always wanted these past years. He meets Iwaizumi’s glare and smirks.

Iwaizumi’s gaze flickers to Oikawa’s clothes and his eyes widen briefly. Oikawa wears the same uniform from his days as an angel, but he’s made some adjustments. The white fabric drapes over his body seductively. It’s ripped in places, showing his shoulders and midriff. Iwaizumi looks away quickly and Oikawa’s just a tad bit disappointed that he didn’t stare for longer, but he’s immensely pleased with the surprise he managed to elicit from the angel.

“Hey, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa says cheerfully. He smiles so widely that his cheeks hurt. “Told ya that we’d meet again.”

Iwaizumi bristles. “Don’t call me that,” he says, voice as cold as ice.

Oikawa smirks. “Sure, Hajime.”

Iwaizumi looks at him with something different in his eyes—anger, betrayal, hatred? Oikawa isn’t sure. But as Iwaizumi glares at him, Oikawa thinks it’s alright, that he could get used to it. 

It’s alright as long as Iwaizumi looks at him.

**Author's Note:**

> God, I love hurting Oikawa. It’s just so fun and easy. The insecurity flows out of him, y’all.


End file.
